


With Much Love, Mischa

by tarnishedsilver



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Russian Mafia, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:29:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarnishedsilver/pseuds/tarnishedsilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Mischa Lecter manages the family's criminal empire and does her best to write to her dear brother whenever she can. Sometimes she visits too, only because Hannibal is too lazy to leave Baltimore. He writes back about boy troubles. She worries. They both murder lots of people and try to find domestic bliss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mischa to Hannibal and Back Again

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a Mafia AU and Mischa lives in Russia rather than Lithuania because it is easier to work there and to operate clandestine activities. Serial Killing is kind of a family thing.

Dearest Hannibal, 

I apologize for not writing recently. There has been recent trouble in our organization that I was required to personally contend with. As you know, the family business needs constant supervision. However, such is no reason to forgo communication with my dearest brother. It was rude of me and I hope you can forgive my forgetfulness.

How are your patients faring? I know your practice is thriving but it has been so long since you have last told me about an interesting case. In fact, you must come visit me sometime. I have plenty to keep your larders full and I believe you have not practiced your Russian in many years. Is it not time to do so? I find America unspeakably dull and Americans intolerable, I do not know how you bear it. Why just yesterday I met an american girl, incorrigible and unapologetic for her many faults. She was a heiress and believed herself above me. The contempt in her eyes was quite unconcealed and you would of found her well suited for your kitchen utensils. Fortunately enough, Robertus wanted her to be made an example of. She looked quite hilarious, strung up on the ceiling as her slovenly father screamed in horror when her blood dripped on to his face. 

I hear the Chesapeake Ripper has become active yet again. The ripper seems particularly brazen and I worry about the games that are being played. We all have our vices, and I only ask you to be more careful in yours. You always have the most elaborate of plans and in the madness you have created, there is no doubt a grander purpose. I simply worry for you, forever and always. What we have established here, the connections we have do not extend to the United States. I know that is one of the reasons why you left but it is safer here to do what we do best. 

I miss you. Just yesterday, I saw the Kirov Ballet perform and it was lovely. I thought of you and how much more I would have enjoyed it with you getting overly emotional with the soaring crescendos of the violins. No one can quite do dramatic like you do. 

Do you often go to the opera alone? You know that such art is meant to be enjoyed with friends. 

With Much Love,  
Mischa 

Mischa,

There is no need to apologize. You know I would forgive you the world. Additionally, I am sure you are quite adequately equipped to handle anything that disrupts what we have established. Robertus needn't worry about anything. 

My patients are doing well. Some snivel, some cry, others say nothing at all. It is quite the norm here. I find myself annoyed with one in particular. He is a strange and needy mess with an unusual fixation on his psychiatrists. He is not distasteful enough to warrant a home visit from me, but I am sorely tempted. His problems are conventional and my mind tends to wander during sessions with him. 

But Mischa, I met a man. This is why I have "come out of the woodwork" as one might say. His mind is a mirror and I am fascinated by him. Never have I found a person with such similar intellect and world views as me, yet he is so different at the same time. He is not like us, Mischa. His propensity for murder is a side effect of the serial killers he is forced to empathize with. I left him a gift in the middle of a field and it was the first time anyone has really seen me for who I am( apart from you). However, he is still limited by society and his own constraining morals. Currently, he is my patient, but I look forward to the day in which I can enjoy his company without false pretense. 

I understand that you are wary of the game I play, and this is why I have not informed you of my nightly activities. You are my younger sister and it is my duty to care for you. I already feel as if I have neglected my duties as an elder brother by leaving you in Lithuania and now Russia. Though I know you are an accomplished young woman, I still remember the girl who always waited for me past bedtime to come back from boarding school. 

I hope you disemboweled that american heiress. Carefully splaying someone's intestines is very satisfying after they have been particularly irritating. I would have also derived much satisfaction from seeing that man's face stretched in horror. Ripping out organs may be my modus operandi but the psychological can be just as thrilling. 

I loathe travel and Russia is a barren wasteland to me. Subjecting me to such an environment would be quite cruel of you. Therefore, you must visit me. I have a marvelous dinner planned for us. We can enjoy the ballet or the orchestra together even if you do mock my enjoyment of them. 

Yes, I go to the opera alone but my clever sister already knew that. I believe it is easier to delve more deeply into the beauty of the music without unnecessary stimulus and social niceties.

You are a constant presence in my thoughts. That is to say, I think of you often. 

Faithfully Yours,  
Hannibal


	2. A Reply:The Little Butcher and her Brother

Dearest Hannibal,

People, clients and enemies alike, call me the little butcher here. Just the other day, I was collecting payment from a local whorehouse and the owner was grumbling about our fees. Her daughter, small and blond, tugged at her shirt and told her, "the little butcher protects them." I wonder at that child's faith in me. She is right of course. I would tear the heart out of any person who dare challenge my dominion and that includes every grimy whorehouse that you find so distasteful. Still, I wonder how many deaths it would take to change such an awful moniker.

This man of yours, does he know of your regard towards him? You must have cooked something special for him, something smooth and supple, an athlete's thighs perhaps? He seems rather absorbed by his mental issues, but is probably one of the reasons why you care for him so. I understand your need for him to accept you as you are, but I fear he might recoil if you move too quickly. Our kind of affection is different from what people define as conventional. I do hope things turn out well with him and that we may meet soon, false pretense or not. 

I think back on the days when we lost everything. We worked so hard to rebuild and there was no time for mourning. Even before the blood dried, Robertus pushed us. You were killing as a teenager and I was with you. There was no one left but us. Then, when finally I thought we could breathe again, you left. You ran to America, to your medical degree and not once did you look back. What were you running from? I can only hope you found it, whatever you were looking for. 

So when you tell me you neglected your duties, I do not believe you did. You did not leave during a time of crisis. There are sometimes when we must keep moving forward or be drowned in the past. It was self preservation that pushed you to America and how could I begrudge you your well being? Russia suits me, I find it comforting here while you would have been stifled had you stayed. 

I of course will visit you. You know, we are thinking of expanding eastward. The government there is very obliging and the Chinese are avid customers of our Kalashnikovs. They have cash to burn and the entire country is so vibrant and strong. However, I think you and Robertus want us firmly entrenched in Europe. 

I am forgetting mother and father. When I think of them, all I can remember is the blood on our beautiful wooden floors. Someone like you or me slit their throats open with a letter opener.

With Much Love,  
Mischa

Mischa,

You bring up heavy subjects that I would feel more comfortable speaking about in person. We lost many people that day, and it is easier for you to forget them rather than force yourself to remember a time when you loved without discretion. As for me, I find myself quite incapable of love. 

Those floors were unremarkable. I thought them perfect when you carved flowers into them with my hunting knife. Mother and father were so angry with you though they were proud of your proficiency with a knife. To my recollection, I embellished them with my own designs. Our grandparents became involved and they were truly upset with our defacement of the family home. I think I suffered most of the consequences because you were so small and not yet accountable for your own actions. 

You should know, if we were the ones to kill mother and father, we wouldn't have slit their throats open. We would have flayed their skin and plucked out their eyes as they screamed. You and me, we are quite singular in our cruelty. 

Faithfully Yours,

Hannibal

Dearest Hannibal,

You are correct in your estimation that such a conversation should occur face to face. In fact, you will see me in about a month's time. Robertus wants me to travel with security because he is paranoid in his fear of public spaces. 

With Much Love,  
Mischa 

 

Mischa,

That is rather short notice. Tell Uncle Robertus that you don't need bodyguards and you are capable of slaughtering any enemies you might encounter in the airport. Why don't you just charter a private plane? You should be able to afford it, I thought the business was thriving. 

Faithfully Yours,  
Hannibal 

 

Dearest Hannibal,

I find such luxury wasteful and I enjoy the anonymity of airplanes. I look forward to my visit. 

With Much Love,  
Mischa

Mischa,

I do not know how you tolerate all that awful scrambling in public airports. 

Faithfully Yours,  
Hannibal

 

Dearest Hannibal,

I do not know how you can bear being such an elitist all the time. 

With Much Love,

Mischa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter will be a break from letters and Mischa and Hannibal will have their little get together.


	3. A visit to brother

Mischa is anxious when she finally arrives at her brother's doorstep and it surprises her. These days very little can ruffle her feathers . His last letter brought up memories that she had suppressed long ago. It was perhaps her fault for bringing up the entirely unpleasant subject of their family's death, but Robertus is an unpleasant conversation partner and Hannibal was near surrogate parent when they were younger. Sometimes the death of their family felt like a raw wound that was never given time to scab over and other times it felt like a disfiguring birthmark, a scar that she had made peace with long ago. Such was besides the point, her brother buried the things most precious to him behind clever walls and these days, Robertus held nothing close to his heart.

She hesitates before rapping firmly on the door. It has been a year or so since she had last visited her brother and though they parted on good terms, she is unsure of the welcome she will receive. The door opens and her brother stands, lips quirked in his peculiar smile. He moves forward to embrace her and all that is disarrayed in her mind slots firmly into place. It was stupid of her to worry. 

"How is my butcher of a sister doing?"

She steps back and replies, irritated, " I believe the Little Butcher is doing just as well as the Cheaspeake Ripper is and by that I mean overworked and under recognized."

Hannibal of course, smirks. " I take my art very seriously Mischa, you of all people should know."

She doesn't say anything and instead steps inside his home, her duffel bag in tow. Hannibal glances at it disapprovingly, "Where is all your luggage, was it lost when you did not heed my advice?" 

Mischa shrugs and returns airly, "I have whatever I need."

"You mean an assortment of crude weapons and your toiletries." 

"Something like that."

Hannibal strides to the kitchen, presumably finishing the preparations for supper. He calls over his shoulder as he stabs viciously into a cut of whatever poor man is fillet mignon today.

"Mischa, go fetch the Quinta de Crasto for me and whatever it is that you and your savage Russians drink from the cellar" 

She glares at his back for the insult and resolves to bring up the type of vodka that is only suitable for being horribly drunk. 

 

Before long, they both sit in Hannibal's carefully staged dinning room. It is stifling to say the least and she picks at the perfectly cooked portion of dead man. She thinks of how the carefully drizzled glaze looks like blood and her brother pauses in his careful consumption of his own food. She wonders if she should try to make small talkabout the origin of the meat. What was the social misstep that placed him on your radar? Did you use this body to traumatize and flirt with your new boy toy, her mind supplies. Thankfully before she poses any of her questions Hannibal disappears into the kitchen. 

Hannibal reappears with several plates balanced in his arms, ". Forgive me, I almost forgot your favorite dishes. " She sees the dull red of Borscht, the distinctive grease of Kugelis and the dough of Cepelinas. She beams at her brother and goes to help him with his load. 

He is about to set the plates down when she asks hesitatingly, "Do you mind if we eat in study?Like we used to because Robertus never bothered to come down."

Hannibal looks at her with something soft and unrecognizable in his gaze before nodding. She steps, careful not to spill the Borscht and they both place their plates on the plush carpet of the study. 

Hannibal sets a plate of Kugelis between them and she carefully takes a bite. It is heavy and thick with cream.

"Remember Mischa, when you were hungry and so particular with your food? Our parents could never convince you to eat anything you didn't like. However there was one time, I was still trying to learn how to cook and I presented you with a badly burnt and somehow raw serving of Kugelis. You ate every bite, though I saw you wince and yet you still asked for more. I think I gave you food poisoning." 

She laughs delightedly and Hannibal continues, "Grandmother made the best Borscht. She knew exactly how to make the flavors just right and the beets the right consistency. She tried to teach you the recipe and you ran away, off to go play in some obscure...

It went on like that until they were both surrounded by the memories of their youth and filled with the food of home, long forgotten. Hannibal had discarded his suit jacket and tie and passed the bottle of vodka back to Mischa after drinking a mouthful. Everything was a rather pleasant blur. 

"Thank you, brother." 

 

He kissed her on the brow, "This was something we both needed, sister."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snippet of next chapter:
> 
> "You left me Hannibal! You left me as a child to fufill some idiotic American pip dream."
> 
> "I thought you were adaptable." 
> 
> "Of course I'm adaptable Hannibal, how could I not be? I don't understand how that matters at all!"
> 
> An uncertain voice calls out from the doorway, "Maybe I should come back later? and both Hannibal and Mischa whip their heads to look at the scruffy man in tweed who stands before them, embarrassed and staring at his shoes.


End file.
